Take All of Me
by storiesbycandlelight
Summary: Logan is beautiful. It is the first and last thing Julian will ever notice. Part 1 of my Juligan trilogy based on CP Coulter's Dalton. T for cursing and sexual situations.


A/N: The first part in my Juligan trilogy, which focuses on the relationship between Julian Larson and Logan Wright from CP Coulter's "Dalton." I am suuuuch an avid Juligan Light shipper I can't even begin to express it. :) I hope you all enjoy this fic. Part 2 and 3 are also up, if you so wish to read them. Thank you for your time. Reviews are, of course, appreciated. I take them all, good and bad. :P

Disclaimer: I AM NOT CP COULTER. These are not my characters. Go read 'Dalton' and have your mind blown, instead of bothering with my silly fic.

* * *

Logan is beautiful.

It is the first and the last thing Julian will ever notice, though all the other things in between are even more painful. Like how Logan's a fuck up too, and how he's too clever and talented for Dalton and filled with so much passion it seeps out of his green eyes like a pretty poison. Julian can't get enough of it—of him—no matter how much it hurts. It's sick, the whole thing—his feelings for this self-hating-part-masochist-part-sadist-all-parts-crazy-boy, and how he can't learn to just deal with it. Sad thing is, it's not like he hasn't tried.

He stayed away. Didn't work. Too many blond boys in Hollywood, and with the lights off, it was very easy to pretend a certain senator's son was pressing him into bedsheets.

He came back. Didn't work either. Too few moments, and all spent with other people, all spent watching Logan watch everyone else but HIM.

So now what? What was he supposed to do now?

* * *

Everyone looks the same at Dalton the first day—seniors, freshmen, doesn't matter. They're all crammed into one auditorium, all hearded one direction, a sea of navy blue blazers and pressed pants.

Only he's the lighthouse.

Julian sees him, the beautiful blonde, through the clamber. And though he's so definitely into girls (though his computer history disagrees), he can still recognize beauty and damn—that boy. That boy has it. And Julian wants nothing more than to sit down next to that boy. Even though, y'know, he's so totally into girls.

"Seat taken?" he asks. His voice comes out surprisingly quiet and almost shy and when the boy does not react, he feels his face heat with embarrassment and repeats himself, louder this time.

The boy turns, a little startled at the noise, and with the tiniest of smiles, he shakes his head.

"Uh thanks," Julian swallows and lowers himself down onto the seat, "God, this school gives me the creeps."

"I know," the blonde boy answers with a bitter smile, "I feel like I'm being herded into a slaughterhouse with the rest of you."

"Well at the least the décor is pleasing," Julian added, "If you like gothic architecture. This place is so old."

"I must admit I like the scenery," the boy's eyes flickered around and the ghost of a chuckle passed his lips.

'I sure as hell don't," a brown-haired boy on the other side of the blonde one chimes in. 'His phone is out but his eyes are cast off in an entirely different direction, his fingers moving speedily. "No girls for a whole year? Might as well kill me now."

"I know, right," it's an impulsive answer, one that earns a grin from the brown-haired boy and pursed lips from the blonde.

"So what can I call you two? I'm Derek."

"Julian," he doesn't bother giving his last name. He didn't want the whole wide-eyed-oh-my-god-you're-famous thing right now. He'll soak up the attention later.

"Logan Wright," the beautiful blonde says in return. "And I can switch seats if you two want to gab on about girls. Just saying."

"You got a problem with girls?" Derek asks.

"Let's just say they're not my type." Logan says. Derek mouths an "oh," instantly understanding, but a shrug indicates he doesn't really care.

"Wait," Derek jumps back into the dying conversation. "Wait—John Logan Wright? Senator's son?"

Logan's face doesn't move an inch as he nods.

"So you already know what it's like to be raised for the slaughter," Julian breathes. Me too, he thinks.

"Hm. As would a Larson."

Their eyes meet and there is mutual understanding. They don't have to mention the press or the photograph or the pressure, because it's there.

It's as much a bridge as it is a barrier.

* * *

His room is next to Logan's. He can hear him singing softly at night, singing songs Julian has never heard before, lullabies that carry him to sleep and leave pleasant dreams in his head.

Some nights, he hangs out over there and they sit around and spit at each other, insults and teasing and shit, none of it serious or anything. It's so easy—they both know what ammunition to use, because they're so similar. Each famous in their own way, each beautiful—though if Julian compared himself to the Logan, he knows just how plain he really is and it definitely sucks—each with parents who really don't care, not in the way they both want. They know how to pinch and pull, but they never hit or kick. There's a line. They don't cross it.

One night Julian and Derek sleep over in Logan's room. On the floor like school children, they sprawl out with blankets covering only half their bodies.

In the middle of the night, Julian wakes up to find Logan's face directly in front of his. He can feel his feet, his toes, curled, against his leg.

Needless to say, Julian can't go back to sleep.

* * *

Logan is the one that gets him to sing.

"It's in the cards for you anyway. You have to help me practice," he insists. "I have to make it into the Warblers."

"Get Derek to help you, I'm busy," Julian insists.

"Busy doing…?" Logan swoops around the table in search of homework and the like (something every Stuart usually has on his person) but finds nothing. "You're not busy at all."

"I'm busy not singing with you."

Logan glares, eyes catching the florescent light in a way that makes them burn. He grabs Julian's tie and yanks him up from his seat, tugging on it like a leash.

"OW—Logan, stop –!" He's whirled onto the piano seat. "Logan, I don't even know what you want me to do—" music is thrust into his hand "—this isn't even a duet!"

"I know. I just need you to sing the highlighted part so I can hear the arrangement. And the rest—you just gotta tell me when I suck and I know you love that." Logan sits directly beside him. Their thighs touch. Logan smells like books and pencil shavings and cappuccino. He's so suddenly delirious that he can't even read the sheets until Logan's voice breaks through the haze—

"Desperate for changing…starving for truth…I'm closer to where I started—Chasing after you."

Julian's lips and tongue and throat feel dry as his heart pounds away in his chest and he stares at Logan's talented fingers, listens to his voice and wonders how one person manages to be so—oh fuck—he can't believe that he's actually—that this is happening to him and it's Logan Wright of all people—

"I'm falling even more in love with you…"

* * *

Blaine is not beautiful.

It is the first and last and only thing that Julian has to notice to know that Logan deserves better. Curly black hair and as short as a monkey? Really? Sure, maybe the hands, as strong and sturdy as they are, could be appealing but—really?

A movie deal appears and at first Julian doesn't really want to take it. It's some crap role, in some crap romantic comedy and he'd have to play some crap artist teenager who falls for the unlikely protagonist, which would most likely be a pretty brunette girl. Not his type.

Then he sees Logan kissing Blaine against the lockers, no shame, just heat and tongue and adoration. And suddenly , that crap part is so much better then this shitty school.

* * *

Hollywood is almost sinful enough to wipe Logan out of Julian's mind completely. The lights are so bright they nearly burn the image of him away. The noises, so loud, his wonderful voice nearly disappears. The girls, so VERY pretty, that he has quite some fun messing around in backlots and buying plenty of coffee for lovely, cozy dates with lots of lovely, cozy kisses. This movie is what he needed. Back in his element, his environment, he can be as straight as they come and as free as he wants. Maybe, kinda, sorta, he likes boys a little, but in sunny California, he chases after mini skirts and bikinis and texts Derek inappropriate pictures and gushes about the new hottie whose throat he stuck his tongue down.

But he can't pretend for too long.

"B and L r done. Took long enuff rite?"

He's back in school a week later and Logan is still beautiful.

* * *

His name is Joseph. His hair is dirty blonde. His eyes are a dark blue. He's beautiful but not—not quite.

Doesn't matter. Logan's macking on that goddamn second soloist.

And so Julian loses it all.

He lets Joseph put his hands all over him, in some rundown motel far away from sunshine, stars and pretty women. He breathes into his mouth and shuts his eyes, imagining the hands that are tugging his pants away belong to someone else.

When he arrives in his hotel later, he drinks until he throws up and then cries like the pathetic lovesick loser he's become.

* * *

A few weeks later, a tabloid magazine does a collage of pictures of him and all his lovely ladies from the past year. There's one thing in common and so the headline reads: JULIAN LARSON PREFERS BLONDES OVER BRUNETTES.

Life is so fucking cruel.

* * *

He's back again, for a record of two months and two days before the next movie comes around.

"Shit,' Logan growls as once again Derek kicks his ass at Halo. "Goddamnit! Julian, get your ass over here and help me. If I lose again I have to do his fucking laundry."

Julian grins. He's more content watching. "You won't have to if you just start playing and stop sucking."

"Well, Julian, I swear I'll SUCK your balls right off if you don't get over here."

"Well if you're offering…"

"Girls! Stop flirting and let's play," Derek exclaims and throws a controller at Julian, nearly smacking him in the head. "I can take you both on. Bring. It."

It takes another seven rounds, but finally, Logan and Julian overpower Derek and their victory inspires an explosion of cheers. Logan embraces Julian and they fall back onto the floor, shouting thanks to whatever power may be for their miraculous win.

His agent texts him a few minutes later talking about some big blockbuster part. Screw that.

* * *

"You have to take it."

He's in his room, cornered, like Derek and Logan are staging some sort of intervention (completely unnecessary).

This part," Derek says, "It's THE part, Julian. Everyone has been talking about this part and who it's gonna go to. And they just OFFER it to you and you're THINKING bout turning it down? Are you kidding? You're clearly insane!"

"I have three box office hits under my belt, I hardly need another one," Julian answers coolly. "Not to mention an Oscar nomina—"

"You have GOT to be joking," Derek groaned. "You know that this is a gamechanger. Logan, please, talk some sense into him."

"He can do what he wants," Logan says simply. "Let him make a massive mistake if he wants to."

For an unknown reason, this really pisses Julian off. "Shut up," he shoots his glare at Logan. "You're hardly one to talk about 'mistakes' here!"

His green eyes glint dangerously. He takes a step toward Julian. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"If your daddy hadn't called in his favor, you'd still be out on your ass, that's what that means. Or doing hard time for physical assaul—"

His words are thrown down into his stomach, because Logan yanks him close to his face by his collar, eyes dangerous. Julian's body sparks, his blood racing as he stares back, hard, unafraid of this fake Logan, the Logan that takes over when the anger gets out of control.

"Gonna throw me into a piano, too?" Julian whispers. "Go take your meds, maybe then I'll let you give me advice."

He's thrown back down, and thank god, he doesn't lose his balance. Last thing he needs is to fall on his ass. Logan is quiet and just stares. Stares. His green eyes have never been more intense and as much as Julian should hate him right now, he finds himself back in that stupid place where he's soaking up the attention that Logan gives him. It's a rare moment, when Logan's eyes are on his. Fucking sucks that he has to piss him off to get it.

But for now, he has him. His eyes and his angled, hard face, and his clenched fist and his anger, and all of his thoughts—all Julian's. He gladly takes them, each a precious gift. He's almost tempted to taunt Logan more, if only he didn't care so much, if only he didn't want Logan to just listen to the doctors and swallow the pills and be okay. He was selfish, but he wasn't that selfish.

Derek breaks the tense silence. "Okay guys, c'mon," he breathes, runs a hand through his hair. "let's just chill out. I'd really like to have a moment when you two aren't trying to get on the other's case."

"What can I say, it's easy to mess with a psychopath," the words fly out of his mouth and hit Logan in the gut. Julian watches his real hurt appear behind the rage and he wishes he didn't say it.

"Go do your damn movie, Julian, no one wants you here," he finally growls and then stalks out of the room, slamming the door.

* * *

Billy, Danny, Sam, Heath. The names fly past him. Two of them are almost actual relationships, but both boys break up with him because they're tired of playing the 'in the closet' game. Julian doesn't really care after the initial hurt. As far as he's concerned, he's just trying to fill a part of him that nothing can fill. Girls don't even begin to cover it—he has to date at least three at a time to get any satisfaction, anything close to him—but he can't have any real boyfriends either, not while in the closet. So he just flips through them, collecting hearts and names while acting the most highly-coveted part in Hollywood, delivering each line with all the passion and love he can't give to those poor boys and girls he ends up crushing beneath his shoe.

As far as he's concerned, he's not going to go back. He wanted to stay, but no one wanted him too—everyone pushed him to leave, showed him the door and packed his bags for him. Once the movie is done, he'll get another one and another one, and he'll tell Ramsay he's just going to enroll online. She'd understand. And then, eventually, all the Hollywood glitz will erase the beautiful boy Logan Wright from his memory and he'll be able to finally attempt a real relationship with someone.

His plan is, as always, ruined by fuckin' Derek. He can't ignore the texts, he's not physically able to. And after a while, he realizes he's living through them, greedily gobbling up whatever bit of Logan he can get, even if it's all about Logan and some gay-as-the-rainbow-is-long Kurt.

The movie finishes and he's so tempted to go back. He resists. Passes the time with daytime appearances and magazine shoots. Fucks a few models, gets fucked by a few boys. Y'know, whatever.

"off meds again. Srsly worried. Plz dude, get back here asap."

He stays strong

"hes going crazy. Where r u?"

He drowns himself in liquor and two blonde bimbo twins.

"fck u jules logan needs u"

He's on the next plane. No matter how hard he tries, he can never ever get away. He's so whipped.

* * *

Like always he tries to set him up, waiting to walk around the corner and find Logan with his arm wrapped around the newest Windsor pretty boy, which will be his ticket to freedom. It doesn't work quite as planned.

Everything crumbles. It only takes a few seconds and everything Julian has crafted and fought to ignore comes out and ruins him. He's as bad as Logan. He has no control and he's a screw up, emotionally stunted, pining after someone who doesn't want him at all. But still, still he tries. He pushes. He fights. And because of it, it all breaks.

They fight about Kurt. About Blaine. About everyone Logan has ever given his heart away to.

They scream about each other's shortcomings.

Logan is the first to swing, of course—but Julian does not stop him.

They collide, two forces of nature so out of control that there is no name for this kind of disaster, but it's furious and loud and so, so messed up. They ruin the music hall, music sheets on the ground, chairs overturned, until they are scuffling on the floor. Julian, with all the strength and anger of three years, heat rushing through him like a storm, pins Logan to the ground.

'Get off of me," Logan says through his teeth. "GET. OFF. OF. ME."

Once again, Logan's attention is all on him and it's his choice drug. Julian can't possibly give it up. He's breathing hard, and suddenly very aware of how he's pressed against Logan in every way, bodies as close as they've ever been. The blood pounds harder. Logan is still yelling and struggling and Julian's mind is jumbled, scrambled with heat and anger and god, even when pissed, Logan is beautiful—

Julian's lips crash into Logan's and nothing nothing nothing will be the same after this.


End file.
